


Aftermath from a Were-Monster

by agoodwoman



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Daggoo, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-03
Updated: 2016-02-03
Packaged: 2018-05-18 01:09:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,519
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5892283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/agoodwoman/pseuds/agoodwoman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This is just drabble writing post episode-thoughts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. My Poster

The fanfare was small and slight when they got back to the basement. Skinner had them go through the motions of getting re-certified, they were handed their badges and guns in the privacy of Skinner’s 9th floor office. They showed up to work the following day without anyone paying any attention. Just like old times.

The parking garage had a space for them on level B, with XFD painted on spots 32 and 33. When she arrived with her briefcase, a box full of office supplies and a long cardboard tube tucked underneath one arm. Mulder arrived with a pack of seeds and a brown bag lunch. 

“Hey Scully,” Mulder said as he brushed by her and placed his belongings on the desk. Scully noticed it only had is name on it. 

She crossed the office and placed the box on the top and was grateful it wasn’t the same one they had shared for years. The top drawer stuck and the deep bottom drawer had a sticky residue that Scully wasn’t interested in determining the source. That desk had seen a few things and been present to a handful of indecent acts. It had heard them say things they usually only said to one another in private. 

The rumours of John and Monica might have run rampant but they had nothing on the truths of Mulder and Scully. They were professionals but toward the end of his time down there, after the millennium, Mulder gave zero fucks about losing his position in the basement and liked to push those boundaries. Occasionally, Scully did too.  

“I still don’t have a desk,” she noted as she shed her black Burberry trench and hung it on the coat rack in the corner. 

Mulder nodded toward the cardboard tube on the desk. “What did you bring to class, Miss Scully?”

She crossed the office and took the slick paper from its cardboard encasement. “I thought I could feather the nest a little.”

Mulder took out the thumb tacks from the top of the box and watched her hang the iconic poster. 

“When did you pick that up?” he asked as she gave him a satisfied smile. 

“I ordered it for my office but I like it better here,” she told him as she folded her arms across her front. “I actually ordered two.”

“This is at your office at the hospital?” Mulder asked, pointing to the poster.

“No,” she shook her head. She was inferring to the apartment she kept in DC however she rarely referred to it to him as her home. Home was the house they shared with a mix of memories and jointly picked out furniture. “Be nice to this one, Mulder.”

“I’ll try,” he told her.


	2. Daggoo

“You can’t call him that,” Mulder said as he scratched the dog’s chin and the little pup rolled over for him to get a proper belly rub. 

“It pays homage to your Lizard-Man and he was in Moby Dick,” Scully defended as she sat down on the floor next to where Mulder was laying with the dog. This hotel cost them 72 dollars a night and didn’t have any hollowed walls for peeping tom managers to spy on them. “Daggoo is a great dog name.”

“Queequeg and Daggoo,” Mulder muttered and watched as her faced changed from one of concern to delight as Daggoo flipped over and crawled into her lap.

“I think he likes you,” Scully noted as Mulder reached out to scratch Daggoo behind the ear again. 

“I guess he’s not picking up on different ways I’ve hurt you,” Mulder said as he pulled back his hand and sat up against the bed. 

Scully stopped petting Daggoo and pushed him off her lap to scoot closer to Mulder on the carpet. “I think we both did some damage, Mulder.”

“No grudges between us?” he asked.

“I wouldn’t say that but I think the only way to move forward is to put certain things in the past,” she mused. “Especially if we’re going to give it a fresh start.”

“You say things like ‘my Mulder’ while wearing my Knicks t-shirt and I have to ask if you’re serious, Scully,” he said as he took her hand in his. 

He always felt warm to her and she realized it was because she was usually chilled. Her body longed for the heat of his but moreover, she missed just being with him. Working along side him, being challenged on her science and finding their common ground. She missed the weight of him on top of her and the way he took up two thirds of every bed they slept on. She missed his noisy presence and the way he rubbed her back absentmindedly while they sat reading the paper. 

Most importantly she missed the passionate fire of a man who sounded bat-crap crazy while arguing that a giant lizard was also a man. That part, not so secretly, was the part that reignited every flame inside of her that was a dying ember of passion for him and what their work was. 

Daggoo nudged Mulder’s arm and he looked down at the small mutt. “You’re going to have to learn to share.”

“Don’t worry, Mulder,” Scully said as she pulled his face toward hers. “I still don’t like dogs in the bed.”


	3. My Mulder

She says “my Mulder” because he has been hers since she walked into that basement office in 1992 and shot down theories of extra terrestrial life. She says “my Mulder” because he’s stood in her space, taken up every inch of her life and whether or not their mailing address is the same, she is his and he is hers. 

She says “my poster” because she hung it on the wall after buying two on M street, hoping he would feel a sense of home when she put it up. He had wrecked a few posters in their past and when he got back down in the office with Skinner it was an affront to how he had lost Scully and his life. He was wrong because it was a reminder of what started them on this path. 

The journey has always been to find a shared belief between science and the paranormal. 

That office was theirs to share, to argue, to discuss to theorize and plan in. The poster was a constant in the backdrop and a reminder to them both that believing in something bigger than themselves, even if it sounded silly, was not trite, it was good. 

She says “my Mulder” on a bed in a creepy motel with hollowed walls but when they get to their next place to rest their heads he calls her “mine” and possesses her in every way a man can have a woman while a discarded, well worn Knicks T-shirt lays near his jeans. 


	4. My Poster

“You forget, I’m immortal,” she said as she poked him playfully in the chest. 

That statement hung on to Mulder’s thought process for the rest of the day and until the late evening when he came back from shaking hands with a honest to goodness were-monster who was about to hibernate for thousands of years. 

When he arrived at their new hotel room he found Scully still in her suit and watching a late night talk show with Daggoo curled up on a dog-bed near the couch. 

“I didn’t forget what Clyde told you,” Mulder said as he reached into his suit pocket and found a few stray seeds. “I just didn’t think you took it to heart.”

“I wasn’t trying to be reckless,” she said with a shrug. “I was trying to solve this case Mulder but you kept ditching me.”

Mulder pushed off his shoes and loosened his tie. “Guy Mann is hibernating for ten thousand years. He’s turned back into his horned non-lizard humanoid sized state of being and we shouldn’t hear from him again.”

Daggoo grunted from his slumber on the dog bed and Scully grinned knowingly at Mulder. “Daggoo and I share the same sentiment.”

“Don’t forget that the true monster lied within Pasha,” he countered as he held up one finger in the air as he did while making declarations of the world and society. He glanced over to her and noticed she was smiling and took solace in the fact that she was still enjoying herself. 

Scully turned off the television and turned to him. “If you’re sleeping over you need to mess up your bed for the maid.”

“I haven’t forgotten how this works,” he reminded her as he picked up her room key. “I’ll be back in ten.”

He kissed her softly before leaving her to set up his room as a staged night of singular slumber. When he returned she was wearing his Knicks shirt and nothing else. Mulder made a comment as he slid under the covers next to her about her road time lingerie being improved on since their old cases and she tugged on his bright blue underwear. 

“I could say the same about you,” she said as she snapped the waistband of his shorts. 


End file.
